The Monroes: April Showers
by OllieOfFreeOxen
Summary: Adam Monroe digs himself out, starting yet another new life in which he starts to run the world how he so desires. Part I of IV. This part includes Mei, the foundation of the Government, their rise to power, and the Earth's apocalypse. Pre Season 3.
1. Part One, Mei

**Author's Note and Official Apology:**

I will say now that I know this isn't a well-written story. I didn't mean it to be a well-written story. It's full of under-developed characters living in a early morning soap opera situations. Again, at the time of me writing this, I did not mean to make a masterpiece. I just wanted to get this story out of my head, and the only way to do such a thing is to type it out.

Furthermore, if that kind of thing isn't your cup of tea, then great. You don't have to read it. The main purpose of me posting it on here is so that Heroes fans with the patience and boredom to have interest in such a plot line would read it and give feedback. In saying this, I will fully accept any flames that come my way with a wet kiss.

Second, this was conceived and written before the third season, so any conflicting information will have to be excused. The same with Heroes 360 and the comics with the exception of "The Ten Brides of Takezo Kensei," which actually plays a big part in it, obviously.

Third, it's kind of written in a series of one-shots with the points of views coming in from everywhere. Until I say so, all chapters are written in chronological order.

Fourth, enjoy. Don't take life too seriously. If you want to comment just to say "Hi!" or something random, I don't really care. In fact, it would make my day.

**Fifth,** yes this is Part One and a link to Part Two will be available at the end. Thank you for being abosulutely confused, if you are. Sorry for all the trouble. Furthermore, these chapters are exactly are how I first released them, so excuse the references to the episodes that may have premired after some. Just my obsession speaking, and it speaks loud.

**Part One**

Chapter One: Mei

**  
**  
Mei stared her assignment. It was on the definition of respect and hadn't gotten anywhere since about five o'clock. Now, normally, she was a good and decent student, but as tonight was the last night of the neighborhood festival spectacular that only came once a year, she did get a bit chattier than usual. As it ended up, she wouldn't get to see the fireworks at all because of all the extra assignments her teachers punished her with.

Her father was nearby, at the table, shuffling at a few papers spread out before him. The only sound was from the fireworks booming outside the window.

As simply as that, two beats of a knock came from the door. "Papa, there's someone at the door," she said. Normally, she'd always open the door herself, but she was really very frustrated at her work.

Her father ignored her completely, and she saw him reading and mumbling out of the corner of her eye.

The knock came again. "Papa-"

"Answer it, then." His voice was quiet, as if he hadn't broken his thought.

Then, she did answer the door, and was very surprised to see Professor Nakamura, standing in all of his glory.

"May I speak with your parents?" he said.

There they were, the very words that Mei had been so worried about hearing. She could then remember something like her face going red or pale, or something like that. But, alas, she did bow her head in respect and called her father from the table, who took a few moments to sigh and get up.

She averted her eyes from her father, who appeared just behind her at the door. However, just as she turned away to face her shame, she just happened to look at Professor Nakamura once more. And she could most clearly remember this part, seeing his eyes grow big, the biggest she had ever seen, even if he hadn't worn glasses. He certainly was very surprised at something, but as she turned to see whatever he was so surprised at-

The old man took a breath and stood up from beyond the sofa. The older woman stood up as well. A younger, middle-aged Nakamura blinked from the doorway. He stared, very surprised at the man before him, but eventually he noticed that the student and the father were frozen-. Time was stopped.

The young Professor Nakamura blinked at the old Professor Nakamura and sighed. "After all this time, there's always something new," he said to himself, shaking his head.

"Don't feel bad," the older Nakamura said to the younger Nakamura. "It'll clear up. In forty years, you'll know what to do."

Meanwhile, the older Mei walked over to the door, next to her ten-year-old self. She smiled at the girl, and then looked up to her motionless father behind her. He looked the same as ever, with the same youthful face and the same blond hair. He never did age and he never did change.

What she did notice was that she was mistaken. She had always remembered that her father was fearful when he came to the door, but what she saw now were eyes full of rage.

"Do you understand now?" said the older Nakmura. "Mei, I'm not you nor your father's enemy. He just thought differently."

Mei nodded silently.

He mirrored the nod. "Good. Then when we get to the present, I will tell you the real story."

"Hiro!" he called to his young self. "Will you carry little Mei to her room? After we cover up our tracks, you'll be free to leave. Just know that Monroe will flee to England, and he won't hunt you down if you don't hunt him down."

The younger Nakamura nodded and picked up the little girl, carrying her off down the hall.

"So this is it," said Mei slowly. "This is the beginning."

She shot in her bed. After a moment of shock, Mei sat up, mind still buzzing. She was still wearing her school uniform, but the windows were flashing with the fireworks finale. Not ten seconds after she had woken, her father was at the doorway, still dressed in his favorite suit that he had worn that day, and in the dream as well. Well, if she was here and... Well, it just must've been a dream.

From the small light in the hallway, she could see that he was so tense that his teeth were gritted together, but once he set his eyes on Mei, he let out a scoff, almost a laugh. After that, he couldn't help but to hold a fake smile. Though, of course, Mei could never tell, since he was a businessman, and his fake smiles looked just as real as his real ones.

"What time is it?" she asked, quickly getting out of bed. She wasn't ready to sleep any longer. After all, she had to finish her assignment as well as the rest of her homework.

Her father looked alarmed, glancing back through the hall. "Er, nearly nine. I'm..." he paused, though Mei couldn't tell what for. "I'm surprised you've had such a long nap. You were... in such a hot state this afternoon that, eh, I thought I'd let you... sleep past when you told me to wake you." He was much more relaxed now, but his smile twitched and his fingers took it upon themselves to tap on the doorframe.

Mei ran her own fingers through her hair, which still felt smooth. She figured that it was a short nap, and she hadn't been asleep for very long. Once she forgave her father for not waking her, she walked quickly to the sitting room and found her assignment still only half done, although the rest of her homework was already complete. She finished it, quickly, with the new inspiration that had been frightened into her, and went off to bed.

"Good night," her father bid her. He was sipping a mug of coffee that Mei noticed, but didn't realize was strange until she was back in bed and drifting off to sleep.

The next day, Mei woke at exactly ten minutes before her alarm clock would have rang. She was in a much better mood, but still was worried about seeing Professor Nakamura that day, and to remind herself of that dream. There was shouting and arguing about in the sitting room, although this was completely normal to Mei. At least it was in Japanese now. They had stopped arguing in English since she began learning the language in school a few years ago. Now, they just stopped arguing whenever she walked into the room, and she figured to do that now as to remind them not to wake the neighbors.

She did walk into the sitting room, and the words dropped as sharply as they had come. Both of her parents turned to look at her. They were both dressed hastily in the clothes from the day before, and were both grasping a cup of coffee in their hands. She cautiously wished them a good morning.

Her mother snapped her head back to her father, eyes brimming with tears. "Go. Tell her."

It was if the dream had been an omen. Mei didn't have to see Professor Nakamura that day. In fact, she never did return to that school, and to her dismay, never did say goodbye to any of her friends. She begged her father to tell her why they had to go, and so quickly as well. He simply told her that it was dangerous to stay where they were, to stay in Japan. He said that he had done something very long ago that made someone mad at him, and that now that person knew where he was. He said that the person would try to kill all of them if he could. Mei couldn't imagine what her father did that could make someone that mad, and asked him again and again what had happened. He told her, again and again, that perhaps he would tell her the whole story when she was older.

**A\N:** Yeah, this first chapter's a bit... Well, yeah it does suck. And I have nothing to say that will make you believe me that reading the second chapter explains a lot.

Also, if anyone has a better title for this, ideas would be gladly appreciated.

And I can't pick Adam Monroe as a featured character? But I can pick _Heidi Petrelli_? What's up with that?


	2. The Job Opportunity

**Chapter Two: The Job Opportunity**

"Adam Monroe."

The man blinked more slowly at the name being called to him, but still stared up at the flight listings on the screen above him. Finally, seeing no place that popped out to call to him, he let out a breath and took a longer blink than the first. "Of all the names I've taken," he said, "I wonder why that one sticks the most."

The first man smiled, as if this was reassurance to him. "Perhaps because it was the last name that you've taken that is easier to pronounce than Makoto Takahashi."

Adam glanced his eyes over at him, but took no move from his stance. The man was in a tailored gray suit with a deeper gray tie. He was a strong black man, being maybe mid-forties with graying hair. He did, however, wear sunglasses. "How did you find me?"

"Well," the man smiled brightly again, "when you know people, things get done. Especially if you know certain special people. You know that better than anyone."

Adam chewed at his lip and nodded, moving his eyes to the screen once again.

"Cute family," the mysterious man took a step back to turn and look back at the food court. The girl and her mother were too busy with their food to be paying attention. "The little one showing signs yet?"

He shook his head no.

The man turned to his original position. "I wouldn't think of you to marry some ordinary human," he said, looking up at the screen as well.

"It would've been worse to do otherwise."

"Do you mean worse to leave some pregnant woman alone to have your possibly gifted child without you having a track on them?"

Adam was silent for a moment, but then nodded. "In a rough way to put it."

"Ah," the man put on a slim smile, and they stared up at the screen, caring less which flights were being cancelled.

A few moments passed until either of them spoke again.

"Mr. Monroe, do you know why I'm here?" the man asked. He wasn't on a schedule, but he would like to be done with it all as soon as possible.

"Of course." Mr. Monroe stretched and stuck his hands in his pockets, and then sighed. "No, not really."

"Mr. Monroe, we appreciate all that you've done for our branch of science, and recognize that it was wrong for 'the Company', as they call it, to punish you for your efforts," he paused, not sure what he was expecting.

A smile jumped up on the right side of Adam's mouth. "So you would support a virus that would kill a good part of the entire world?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.

The man ignored the comment. "We are also a group formed for the same cause, though we are more committed to the well being of humans with abilities. That means less testing unnecessarily on our clients, and more concentration into fitting them into places where they would be most useful and happy without alerting the worries of the commonplace citizen."

"Citizen?" Adam said incredulously. "So you're-"

"As of approximately three months ago, we are an official, although secret department of the Her Britannic Majesty's Government, approved by both the Queen and the Prime Minister. The full name, actually, is the Department for the Welfare of Talented Individuals, or the WTI. We were to be under a main department, but our area of concern was so large that they figured not to try and fit us somewhere," the man shrugged.

Adam nodded, trying to take it all in. "Finally, a bureaucratic response to all of this," he said. "I'm delighted. Though, it could've come sooner."

"Yes, but comic book superheroes made it easier to ignore the facts and call it fiction. People notice more now, and are willing to face the truth. Well," he started and turned his head, "not everyone, of course. You previously mentioned a virus that you tried to release. Of course the Prime Minister would not approve of such an act, but with our resources we can quickly change his mind." He paused with a sigh. "It is a long term goal between my closest circle, and although top secret, it is still in the works. If a sudden uproar came about, we would need something that would protect our race... or species, rather. We may have abilities beyond their imagination, but they would have power in numbers. Many more numbers. Keep that bit to yourself, will you?"

"Of course," said Adam. "But you still haven't told me where I come into play." A few seconds ago, he took a glance back to the food court, where his wife and daughter were close to ending their meals.

The man took a deep breath, and ordered his words carefully. "You are a great man, Adam Monroe, and of course you know that your legacies are things of legend. We would be honored if you would accept an offer to be the Permanent Secretary for the WTI. The board could think of no better man to lead us." He held his breath, watching what he would say next.

He said nothing at first, though kept himself to look composed as possible. "This would include...?"

"Complete security and instant citizenship for you, your wife, and child. Even if the Company do finds your new name, it would be virtually impossible to track you down. You may live in an active community, but if need be at any moment, the whole town could be set to have no idea that anyone had ever lived in your house. You would be protected from everyone, with abilities or not. Oh, "he winked. "And a more than decent salary, if I do say so myself."

Adam turned his whole head to look back to the food court. They were getting up to throw their trash out now. Well, it wasn't like he had much of a choice, did he? Well, he was going to choose it even if he did have a choice, right? In the past, he had prayed for such opportunities created from appreciation. He sighed, taking much effort to look bored and effortless. He said, "I suppose it's time to return home. What did you say your name was again?"

"I didn't." The man took out his hand for a formal shake. "Welcome to the WTI, Mr. Monroe. It is simply wonderful to have you on board."

* * *

**A\N:** Yes, this one's short, but thank you to anyone who's made it past the first two chapters! Woot!

As always, please spam my reviews page, and thank you for your time.


	3. The Workplace

**Chapter Three: The Workplace**

As Mei watched the stream of lights go by the train window, she thought about something she hadn't thought about in a long time. For the four years that they had lived in London, she had only asked one question to her father about his work. It was: "What do you do?"

Her father always had a short answer that was as clear as a glass of milk. "I work for the government, helping people," he said, and continued reading his book, or doing what ever it was that he was doing that led her to believe it was inappropriate to ask anything further.

So, that was the limit to what Mei dared to ask. It was, she decided in the end, better to not question any of it. She had have a wonderful life since leaving Tokyo. They had moved to Wandsworth, in a lovely Victorian house that was lined with navy blue paint, and had some very old stairs that almost never squeaked despite their age. She had even made friends that replaced the ones from Japan, and enemies too. Best of all, every Wimbledon tournament was even more exciting than any annual festival back home. Yes, life was good, and being suspicious of such things was not a thankful thing to do at all.

"Papa, I thought you worked in Paddington," she said suddenly, ripping her face from the window.

Her father was standing, trying to read a newspaper. He usually dressed for work in something semi-formal, though it was quite clear that his office had no dress code. Today, for her sake, he wore a suit, but left the tie at home. Just as well, she was told to look her best, and her mother had searched through the closet the day before for a nice blouse and skirt.

For a moment, her father did not respond, but instead pinched the bridge of his nose and gave her a hard stare. "Would you stop being so anxious? You're giving me a headache," he said, giving her a hard stare.

"Sorry." Mei looked to the floor and slowly turned back to the window.

Her father sighed and dropped his hand from his head. "Thank you," he said.

Not ten minutes later, they were at the door of a square white building labeled with a large white sign with blue capital lettering just above the door. "Paddington Waterside Healthcare," it read, with just under it, at eye level, "Appointment Necessary."

Mei's father led her in, where they saw an empty cream white waiting room with a secretary behind a glass on the far side.

Once the secretary saw them, she started in a very loud voice. "Mr. Allen! It is very wonderful to see you today, and-" she gave a more than enthusiastic gasp. "Is this her?!" Mr. Monroe nodded. "Oh, isn't she just darling? Goodness, I can see she's got your looks, Mr. Allen!"

After about two minutes of this, Mei's father introduced the secretary as Mrs. Stepto, who then told them that Room 6 was open. He promptly thanked her and led her through the white door beside the secretary.

They came across a fork between three hallways, white and well-lit, that were quite normal to a doctor's office, being labeled to show you the restrooms, examination rooms, and downstairs. Mei was of course led down the center hallway, and they both arrived shortly at Room 6.

It was a small sort of room, with three and a half white walls, and a mirror taking up half of the fourth. An ordinary cream padded examination table was in the center, and it was apparent that Mei was supposed to sit on it. The rest of the room was almost completely empty except for a trash bin, a scale, a sink, a small counter space, and a swivel chair, which now held Mei's father and his newspaper.

"Two-way mirror?" she asked, looking insecurely at the top half of the fourth wall.

Her father turned a page. "Yeah. Genius and so inconspicuous, right?"

Mei nodded, swinging her legs at the end of the table. They waited for what seemed like an awful long time to her, but it was still silent between the occasional flip of the newspaper page or swivel of the swivel chair.

Finally, her father put another hand to his forehead. "Relax," he told her.

Not ten seconds later, a sort of round balding man in a white doctor's coat (that made him look rounder) opened the door quite suddenly, but had his eyes set on a clipboard instead of either of them. Mei sat up and smoothed out her skirt at once.

Mei's father flipped a corner to see who it was. "Henry? I thought you were on vacation," he frowned. "Aw, now don't tell me they couldn't let you leave the country for a weekend!"

Henry shook his head. "People just keep coming in waves, Mr. Allen. I don't get a definite vacation unless they tell me it's okay to go."

"Don't worry about it, Henry. I'll put in a good word for you."

"Thank you," he smiled, full of appreciation. "But now, to you," the doctor turned to Mei with a cheery and comforting smile. His eyes almost sparkled behind his glasses. "My name is Dr. Holst. How are you doing this afternoon? Happy to get out of classes, I hope?"

Mei couldn't help but to return the smile back. "Yes, Sir. Very happy."

Dr. Holst leaned on the side of the counter and poised a pen on top of the clipboard. "Name?"

"Um, Margaret Allen," said Mei cautiously.

"Legal name is Margaret Allen," her father interrupted without looking up. "Birth name is Megumi Takahashi. Even her English friends still call her Mei. That's M-E-I."

The doctor nodded, and filled in the respected blanks. "Parent's names? Legal and birth?"

Mei's father interrupted again before she could speak. "Mother is Amy Allen, born Minami Shimamoto. Father is Joseph Allen, and leave the birth name blank." The doctor noted these without a sound. "I'm sure she can tell you the rest herself," he said and went back to his newspaper.

The rest of the questions were fairly standard for a doctor's visit. She told him simple things like her birthdate and that she lived in Inner London, though he didn't ask which borough, so she didn't tell him. In fact, the questions were less personal than a usual doctor. Eventually, they moved off of questions about her and more actual examinations.

With a pocket flashlight and latex gloves (allergies had been covered in the questions), Dr. Holst checked just about every inch of Mei, from shining lights into her pupils and down her throat to measuring her shoe size and asking if she had a preference for flats (she did). Once he took down her height and weight, he told her that she could put her shoes back on, and to follow him downstairs. She did, readily, while her father folded up his newspaper, tossed it into the trash, and followed right behind the two of them.

* * *

**A/N:** I have reviews! Oh my- Holy schnitzel! Yes, I will update more! happydance


	4. The Charlotte Davidson Incident

**Chapter Four: The Charlotte Davidson Incident**

Going downstairs, Mei was much more comfortable than when she had first entered the building, but found it to be much more interesting than the ground floor. The stairs ended with the white hallway taking a sharp right, then two more rights spread out so that it made sort of a square to an unusually long hallway. Mei figured that they were directly below the examination rooms, though she could hear echoes of loud chatter, laughing, clanging, and what she thought were the squeak of sneakers. In any case, she couldn't get a better listen since Dr. Holst took out a bunch of keys and unlocked the first door to his left, opened it, and stepped into its side so that Mei could enter.

She did, and could immediately feel that strong sense of comfort wash away. It was another white room, again, though with a much higher ceiling that she thought wouldn't be so possible underground. There was a large window to the left with a long desk, at least five computer monitors, and a man and a woman with lab coats and coffee mugs.

However, most eerily terrifying was the white padded chair, almost like a dentists chair with twice the amount of metal gadgets and wires and a hundred other things that could only be identified by a few people in the world. It was placed in the center of the room facing a much smaller chair and desk. The people in the window could clearly see the side view of both the chairs, but they were now standing and greeting Mei's father, who had apparently gone around some back door to get into that room.

Dr. Holst asked Mei to please sit in the white chair, while he took the smaller chair and desk and scooted towards her. "Now, this is a much safer place. No one can be listening here, except those goofballs observing us, so don't be afraid to speak up, alright?" He still had his clipboard, but was turned to a different page.

"Alright," stuttered Mei. She looked to the window again. Her father was looking intently at her, but then gave her a reassuring smile. She still couldn't tell his fake smiles from his real ones.

"So," the doctor poised his pen. "When did you have first signs of your ability?"

Mei looked to her feet and clicked her heels together. "Well, um. Well, I don't know." She could tell that her voice was getting quieter. "I think it was a few weeks ago, when um..."

Her father's voice suddenly rang out from a speaker, and Mei looked to see him talking into a mircophone. "The Charlotte Davidson Incident," he said. "That was your first."

"Charlotte Davidson?" Dr. Holst asked. "Who's that? Someone you know?"

"Oh, well," Mei went slow to pick out her words. "Well, Charlotte Davidson is this girl from school. And er, she was one of those girls, you know, who's real dumb and real pretty and real rich and says she's related to the Queen by something like twenty half-cousins." She stopped, glancing back at her father, who was sipping a coffee of his own.

"Yes, I know the type. Did you do something to her?"

Mei's eyes shot back down at her feet. "Well, you see, of course I didn't like her very much, and she didn't like me very much either. And she'd always talk badly about me and my friends, but I didn't say a word about her. Not aloud to anyone she'd talk to, at least. So, finally," she took a quick glance at the doctor, who was still writing. "Finally, I just thought really badly of her. You know, I just wished that someday she'd be fat. Real fat. And ugly, too. Just, that tiny little ass of hers would just blow up like a balloon." The last part had been said a little too loudly.

"Yes? And then what happened?" Dr. Holst showed a small sign of a chuckle waiting to burst out. Mei looked to her father, who was also holding a thin smile. The man and woman in lab coats were very seriously writing on their clipboards.

"And then, it happened. Every lunch time, she'd be there with piles of food, just stuffing her face with cookies and all that comfort food stuff. And you know, she used to just eat a banana every day. I heard that she just told her friends that she was just really hungry all of the time. Or, at least really hungry in school. So, she just ate. A lot. But, she just looked fine with it. It probably wasn't like she couldn't stop herself. It was like she thought stopping herself would be worse than letting herself go so that it could pass."

"But, it didn't pass?" Dr. Holst was writing notes down furiously.

Mei shook her head no. "This started a few weeks ago. I'd say the beginning of last month. Last time I heard, she was more than twenty pounds overweight. Well, she started at I think fifteen pounds underweight, so that's quite the difference."

The doctor decided to ask some more questions instead of catching up. "Did you know it was you doing it?"

"No, sir. I thought it was purely coincidental."

"Any other incidents that you know of? Accidental or not?"

Mei swung her feet. She always felt better after a good rant. "I think. I heard my mother telling my friends that she couldn't fight with my father anymore when I was around," this time, she didn't dare glance at her father. "She said she'd always just feel happy and would understand everything he said. She said that was real strange. I would think it would be my doing. I don't like it very much when they argue."

Dr. Holst nodded. "Completely understandable." He finished the last of it, and looked to the window watchers. They nodded, and went to their computers.

"What now?" asked Mei.

"Now, we start testing."

* * *

That was the last thing Mei remembered. Not a moment later, she shot up from the bed and looked around her. The room was oddly dark from all that white she had been seeing earlier. At least, there was a window from the door that let in a stream of whiteness. She could still tell that the room she was in was still white, with a white bedframe and white sheets, and a white table at the foot of the bed. Even the hospital gown she wore was white. In about a minute her eyes adjusted, and she noticed that her blanket was gray and that her father sound asleep in the bedside chair.

Her feelings got the best of her, and she went from bewildered to angry. "Papa!" she whispered. "Papa!" she said, in a normal tone. "Papa, wake up!" She scooted over and shook his arm.

"Hm? What? Mei- Oh, shit!" He grasped his temples.

"Sorry, sorry!" Mei let him go. "Oh, I didn't tell them that I can give people headaches."

"Nevermind. They got that," said her father, and he stretched himself out and gave a long yawn.

Mei pushed herself to stand up in the bed. "They did? How?" she asked.

"Testing," he said and flicked on the light switch. They both shielded their eyes from the brightness of the room.

Mei peeped through her fingers to glare at her father. "Testing? I don't remember any testing. I just remember Dr. Holst saying there was going to be testing. And then- And then I was here."

Her father nodded. "That's the idea. I told them to erase your memories."

"What?!" Mei slapped her hands down on the bed. "What for?!"

"It's standard procedure. Everyone that comes in and is registered here goes through testing, and then has the decision to erase their memories of it or not." Mei spoke up, but he continued on. "But, since you're a minor, I made that decision for you."

"But, Papa, I-" she scowled. "Could you at least tell me what happened?"

He nodded. "It really wasn't anything special. They just wanted to see your limits. They tested for what emotions you could send, whether physical or eye contact made it stronger, whether it could go through walls. Just things like that."

Mei asked nervously, "And? What were the results?"

Her father took a deep breath and tried to remember it all. "From what they got, you can make people feel hungry, confused (which is where the headaches come in), calm and happy, frightened or anxious, and depressed, but I'll expect you to top that list with anger and attraction," he grinned. "Not that you'd need the latter."

Also, it has a range of about six feet for general use, but a targeted person half a kilometer away can still feel the effects. Physical and eye contact do make it easier to concentrate on the target, and unless you are completely closed off and air-sealed from the target, it can still work. However, you're still young yet and you'll be able to develop your powers much further. Good enough for you?"

Mei let out a breath and stared at her knees. "Yes, good enough," she said.

"Don't worry about it. They usually abstain from multiple testing, but currently you're the only known and living pheromone manipulator in all of the United Kingdom, so they'll want you to come in often," he got close, and fingered her hair, not helping but to share her sadness.

She hugged her knees. "Is that what they call it? A pheromone manipulator. Like pheromones as in scents and bugs and all that?"

"Mei, it's an absolutely wonderful ability. You're very lucky to have it," he told her sincerely, trying to fight the depression that was raining upon him. "C'mon. Cheer up, Mei."

Mei stuck her face in her knees to keep from crying. "No!" she shouted, muffled. "I won't! What do I want to give people headaches and make people fat for?!"

Her father stood up, walked slowly to the door, checked the outside, then locked it. "Mei, I think it's time that I'd tell you something," he said. He sat on the foot of her bed and lifted her face to look him in the eye. "Now, I'm going to tell the whole story, and nothing but the truth."

As she learned much later in life, he never did tell her the whole story, nor even a quarter of the story, although all of what he told was completely true. He just left a few important parts out.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! Even though there were just two of them! D And please, don't be afraid to give another review, for I can deal with two happy days in a row. It's like a drug, really. I'm addicted.


	5. The Legacy of Takezo Kensei

**Chapter Five: The Legacy of Takezo Kensei**

A long creak accompanied the sound of the barn door's opening. The most surprising part of it was that the barn did not fall apart, though it looked as old and fragile as a 300-year-old man clinging to life in his field, though it had not grown crops in a century. There was nearly thirty seconds of near silence after the creak, through which the wind whistled and cicadas sang as loud as they could.

The young woman turned to peek into the barn. Her black hair was cut short to her chin, but the wind blew it around her face, making it harder to see inside, where streaks of moonlight seeped through the walls. Nevertheless, she never kept her right hand off of the handle of the sword that sat on her back. It would be crucial to be prepared if attacked.

Finally, after waiting for such a ridiculously long time, she thought herself silly. She didn't expect anyone to be in there. She took one step in front of the door, minding the many bales of hay that sat stacked before her. She took another step, looked about her, and then took another. There was no sign that anyone lived here.

"Mei Monroe. May I call you that?" another woman's voice came from the shadows and kicked away the straw as she stepped into the moonlight. This woman did not look so different than the first, perhaps a few years older, with longer black hair that was tied in the back. She also carried a sword, which was poised in her hand, threatening the other girl.

The first woman drew her sword. "You may call me Margaret," she said. "Sayu Nakamura, I assume?"

Sayu nodded. "I suppose you've come to kill me," she said very calmly with a mocked smile. "I think I know, but if you will let me, I'll ask again. Why?"

"It's my duty to stop anyone who gets in the way of the WTI," Mei raised the sword so that it was equal with the other's throat. "And I have reason to believe that you have been working to steal and take credit of all of our scientific discoveries."

Sayu rolled her eyes and growled, "You're wrong, Margaret. We're on the same side. There's no reason to fight each other for the same cause."

"And yet you point your sword at me."

Her stance did not loosen. "I was expecting a different response. Have you not come to kill me because of our fathers' silly quarrel?"

Mei glared, taking a step to circle the other, who took a step in the opposite direction so that they were circling each other. "Oh, that. If you believe that your father was right in slashing my father's heart, blowing him up, then burying him alive, then yes. I think that may be an extra bonus for doing away with you."

"Your father could have been a great hero, but he was a fool, and I've seen you've fallen right in his tracks," said Sayu. "Look at that katana you hold. Your little petty signature. His name might have been Kensei, but your father was nothing near a great swordsman, let alone a Sword Saint."

A puff of hot air escaped from Mei's breath in anger. "And that katana that you hold? What's that for?"

"Oh," remarked Sayu. "This? I could kill you even without a sword, but I thought the irony would be fitting. I don't care about this childish feud. My reason for killing you is that you had almost killed my brother." Her grip became tighter. "Do you remember, Margaret? It was just last autumn. You two just happened to be in the same hotel, with rooms right next to each other. That's tasteless, striking a man when they're down. It's even worse to strike him in his sleep."

Rubbing her thumb on the sword, Mei got her nerves in place. "Perhaps you could tell me the proper way to kill a person when I have you begging for your life."

Then, she struck, lunging forward to attack the woman. Sayu deflected it, sliding past and then behind her. With three moves, Mei attacked again, although Sayu was quick to defend herself almost effortlessly, but slid a few inches back from the hay at her feet.

Not a second later with a sheer smile, Sayu then took the offensive, matching the same exact moves that Mei had just performed. The swords rang out like bells, but there was no one for miles around to hear them. Mei grimaced and slashed at Sayu's middle, who took a quickstep to dodge it, and took an opening from above instead.

Mei staggered back and gripped her shoulder, face clenched up with the sudden blow of pain. Her breath and heartbeat were heavy, but she felt around the damage while keeping both eyes on a pleased Sayu. The wound was as long as her hand, but was less than a centimeter deep.

"I take it you did not read my file, Margaret," said Sayu, not attempting to strike while her opponent was down. "It is unwise to go so blindly into battle."

Mei wiped the blood off on her pants. "No, I didn't have the time. Adoptive muscle memory, I assume?" she asked.

Sayu went back to her original stance with a bright smile. "You are correct."

"A very formidable ability in this sort of occasion," said Mei, and went back to her own stance. "But you have read my file? Do you know what I can do?"

She nodded. "I do know, but I also know that with enough willpower, the mind can fight back anything."

"Sure," mocked Mei.

Sayu slid her right foot back to ready herself. "Try me."

Mei ran to strike again, first doing a two, then three combination move, with her rival dodging it all as smoothly as ever whilst coming up with her own attacks. They both fought with a number of strikes and darts around the barn to something that would look like a ferocious dance to an outsider. Any time either Sayu or Mei could get a pause for breath, they did, staring each other in the eyes for about three seconds before one of them charged again.

For nearly a minute and a half, neither of them had struck another hit on the other, although the both of them were getting very tired of getting nowhere. Still, they refused to back down, and wished for those few moments when their enemy would simply give in. When neither did, they continued to fight.

Within another minute, Mei could tell that Sayu's technique was getting poorer. In fact, she hadn't realized it, but Sayu hadn't even tried to mimic her moves since that first time. She stared her rival in the eye, but with a sharp breath, the girl quickly avoided the gaze.

"Feeling it yet?" asked Mei.

Sayu yelled something incomprehensible, and ran forward to pierce Mei in two graceful steps. But with one quick step to the left, a correct angle of the sword, and a yell of immense pain, it was all over.

Mei flipped her opponent over and clenched her teeth together to see the damage. The wound was serious, a deep line that cut Sayu diagonally across her stomach, though blood was already pooling on the floor to mix in with the mud and straw. Sayu glared at Mei with trails of dirt and sweat matting her face.

Taking a deep breath, Mei aimed her sword at Sayu. She said, "Tell me again, what's the proper way to kill a person?" She stuck her sword in the mud beside them and squatted down to look closely upon the girl's face. "What?" she said. "I don't hear you."

Sayu took a few moments. Her whole body was shaking, and she couldn't control herself. She couldn't even speak, nor spit into Mei's face. All she could do was watch herself spill the blood, and take all of her strength to get up and complete one last effort.

"I like your way better," Sayu gasped and fell back to the ground.

Mei screamed, falling back. She squeezed her eyes shut to hold off the pain, but it radiated through her whole body. It took three tries to draw the sword out of her side as her fingers kept slipping. With her left hand, she held the wound and crawled over to give Sayu a last bit of fury, but it was too late. Mei leaned over to slide her enemy's eyelids close.

She took a deep breath and swore. The cicadas still sang, but the squeaks of bats joined them as they rustled out of their trees, frightened. Her right hand went into her vest and pulled out the canteen. After taking a satisfying swallow of water, she washed her hands. If she wasn't quick, there wouldn't be much time left. Mei reached into her pocket for a small vial filled with a thin red liquid. Again, from her pocket, she drew a syringe and a needle, and held as still as she could to assemble it and fill it with the red liquid.

Once it all was ready, Mei stopped, suddenly. There were new noises to accompany the bats, just outside. An engine rumbled up, and its lights shone in through the barn. Then, voices. There were loud voices, as well. Shouts.

Mei's heart started pumping faster, and the blood poured out from her side. She quickly rolled up her sleeve and poised the needle.

The voices were getting louder with the clomps of boots and the rustle of grass under their weight.

"C'mon, c'mon!" Mei took several deep breaths to calm herself, but the needle shook and swayed far from its intended vein.

She looked back. They were nearing the door now. They could see her. They knew she was there.

Mei squeezed her eyes shut to refocus her vision. Not now, please, Lord. Even if she was caught, she would just have to stick this goddamn-

Her fingers jammed the needle somewhere random into her arm, and injected the liquid, not a second too late.

She let out another groan. Her hand dropped the needle, and she looked back to the people that surrounded her. Well, Mei thought weakly, it could've been worse.

* * *

**A/N:** School death. Not that I have to write these before posting them, but if you really do want me to update, just leave a review, and it'll probably be up by the end of the day! And thank you, thank you, mucho much for your reviews already. They just make my day.


	6. The Compromise

**Chapter Six: The Compromise**

"Mr. McClary? Mr. McClary!"

"Yes, Miss Bennet?"

"Get me Monroe on the line. Now."

"Yes, Miss Bennet."

The chairwoman referred back to the mirror at the left of her office, and moved a lock of blond hair into her hair clip. She checked her makeup, but it was fine for the end of the day, being light and natural. She straightened her collar and adjusted her blazer. Finally, she straightened her pile of papers, put it to the side of her desk, folded her hands, and looked up to the widescreen in front of her.

A few moments later, Adam Monroe appeared on it, sitting sideways in his chair with his feet off to the side.

"Good evening, Monroe," said Miss Bennet.

"Bennet! Just the lady I wanted to see! Did you hear the good news yet?" Adam beamed.

Miss Bennet pressed her lips together. "No," she said cautiously.

The widescreen displayed a magnificent smile. "As of noon, Central European Time today, Denmark officially has their own governmental department dedicated to humans with abilities! Isn't it just fantastic?"

Even through the makeup, Miss Bennet's cheeks burned red. She started to speak-

"Wait, I think I forgot something," said Adam obnoxiously. He rocked in his swivel chair. "Isn't it that despite the fact that the United States says they're a world superpower, they still don't have a state-owned gifted humans department?"

Miss Bennet grasped her desk firmly. "Just because we refuse to brainwash our president, doesn't-"

Adam had disappeared from the screen for about a second, but returned with a pack of gummy bears just in time to interrupt the woman again. "Get over yourself, Cheerleader. There's no harm in bending the rules to stop your international humiliation. You'll only be... what? The sixteenth country to get on the bandwagon?"

"Monroe!" shouted Miss Bennet so loudly that her assistants outside her office began to get worried. "Enough. I have serious business to discuss with you."

"What? Can't you afford your phone bill? Am I using all of your minutes?"

She ignored him. "I have a prisoner that you might be interested in. She's one of yours, found in one of our properties in Upstate New York," she said. A glare and a slight smile tried to read the man, but failed.

Adam popped another gummy bear in his mouth. "Yeah?"

"Yes," responded Miss Bennet. "Says her name is Margaret Allen."

He stopped in mid-chew. "Excuse me for a second," he said, and covered the microphone with his hands. The widescreen showed Adam calling for the nearest man in a lab coat, and together, they had an animated conversation. Miss Bennet watched in gratification.

"Sorry," said Adam into the microphone after he waved the man away. "Not one of mine. Are you sure she's not French?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Monroe. I know she's your daughter."

"Well... Well, fine," he said in a low voice, and started to think up a million things that he would say to that girl. "Alright Bennet, take your pick."

Bennet could barely hide her enthusiasm for the victory. "How's Walsh doing?" she asked.

Adam's face showed a small sign of brightening up. "John Walsh? This morning we found him scaling the ceiling of his cell with two plastic spoons. It was hilarious."

"I want him back," said Miss Bennet.

Adam leaned back into his chair and frowned, eyes dark. "You're not getting your top agent as easily as that."

"He is certainly not our top agent!" Bennet tried to say with sincerity. "Though, she still is your daughter."

There was pause to when Adam looked into the camera and just drummed his fingers on his desk. Everything just seemed to spiral downhill. "Well played," he sighed, giving in. "Terms? You know I always stand on removing any prisoner's memory of my headquarters."

"Go ahead, but your daughter will be keeping all of her memories."

Adam scowled. "What for? I'm doing you a service by undoing all the psychological torture we put Walsh through. Now, I expect you to do the same for her!"

"No. Your daughter hasn't seen any major part of our headquarters, and I assume you haven't shown Walsh a map of yours. It's about time everyone took responsibility for their past."

His fingers drummed on the desk again. "Yes," he nodded, defeated. "Okay. Alright. But the exchange will done in Heathrow," he said solidly.

Miss Bennet stuttered with the insult. "On your land?" she spat. "Over my dead body!"

"That can be arranged as well," said Adam. "Gratefully." He took to chewing on another gummy bear. "Listen Bennet, you called the terms. I called the location. Anyway, it's an airport. It's technically international territory."

"Listen here, Bozo. If you even think you're going to pull a fast one on me-"

"You'll what, Cheerleader? Throw your pom-poms at me?" Adam leaned so closely into the camera that his face filled the whole screen. "Face the facts. Without the support of the state, you are nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing. You'd best not even try at all. Now, you will agree to my location, or else-"

Miss Bennet bit her bottom lip. "Your daughter... will have her memories erased of her entire stay as a prisoner, and you will do the same for Walsh. Agreed?"

Adam sat back and rocked in his chair. "Very well. Agreed."

Bennet continued, "And we also agree to our usual location of tomorrow, Santo Domingo at six p.m. local?"

"Yes," said Adam flatly and frowned at the gummy bear in his hand. "Agreed. Same as always."

"Then it's settled," said Miss Bennet, and signaled Mr. McClary to close the connection. "Good night, Monroe."

Adam said nothing back, and the last image before blackness was of him ferociously ripping of the head of the gummy bear.

"Pig," the chairwoman spat, and gathered her things to go home for the night.

* * *

**A/N:** Yet again, reviews will be wet-kissed and smothered with love. Hope you all are doing fine, 'cuz I'm just dandy with myself. Yup. ...


	7. The Christmas Party

**Chapter Seven: The Christmas Party**

During at least one week of every year, the WTI headquarters was not completely white. The outside door of it was still white, though a faded white from the years, but just under the "Appointment Required" notice, there was a plastic green wreath tied with a red bow. Every white hallway that was visited regularly had been decorated instead with an endless trail of red and green sparkling garland that hung from the top of the walls. Even the secretary's glass was lined with holiday-themed stickers. In the first years of the tradition, some doctors tried to hang mistletoes in the staff lounge, but were met with fights about immaturity with the scientists. Nevertheless, everyone was always cheery leading up to the big day, Christmas Eve, when they could physically see the fruits of their labor.

Adam Monroe thanked Walter, his second-in-command, for the microphone and leaned over the commentator's box. "Alright, everyone. Settle down, settle down now."

The whole gymnasium was lined with more garland and wreaths, but the floor was clear to make room for dancing, or standing carrying champagne, as most people used it for. In fact, the gymnasium must have been filled with at least six hundred people, who all ceased their laughs and conversations and looked to the Permanent Secretary. Nearly all of them were dressed in some sort of holiday colors, if not a dark blue or black that still made them just as formal. It wasn't like it was a formal party anyway, but all of them tried their best to wear decent clothes.

"How about all of you in the cafeteria? I know you can't see me, but can you hear me?" said Adam.

A whole cloud of noise that sounded more like "Yes" and less like "No" came from the other party room across the hall. The walls of the cafeteria were decorated similarly. A buffet table filled the far side of it, and the rest of the room was filled with chairs around circular tables that were covered with dark green tablecloths and poinsettia centerpieces. About three-quarters of these chairs were occupied with people and including the people who stood around the corners with their champagne glasses, there were about three hundred in all.

"I'm sorry that we haven't that much space, but I do have good news," continued Adam. "Although it might be sad news to some of you. This will be our last Christmas party..."

The crowd was filled with "Aww"s and "Boo"s, with some people seriously concerned.

He continued. "...In this building."

The crowd immediately flipped with cheering, clapping, and whistles of joy.

"For those of you who haven't heard," said Adam and waited for the cheering to die down, "our new headquarters will be located in the Southern Uplands of Scotland so that we can keep spreading out above ground instead of digging into the Tube. If you don't know how to get there, just ask one of our lovely secretaries before the end of the night, they'll tell you the closest route from your area. A few of you have been asking, so me clear up that this building will still be running its regular hours."

The gymnasium was starting to fill up with general chatter again.

Adam took a sip from his champagne and continued, "Alright, now that that's out of the way, I welcome you all to the Department of the Welfare of Talented Individuals' 15th Annual Christmas Party. If this is your first time here, please note that there is food and refreshments in the Cafeteria and The Kenneth Jones Band playing in the gymnasium. To all of those who have already eaten, please eat again. We really have too much food, and um," he stopped to lick his lips for a moment. "Eat, drink, and be merry. Is there anything I've forgotten?"

"Toast!" several people shouted out.

"Right." Adam lifted his glass and nearly all of the guests joined him. "A toast," he said, "to all of us. To the past fifteen years of the WTI and for one hundred and fifty more." A few people laughed, but he spoke it in sincerity. "Cheers," he said.

"Cheers!" the crowd rang out and bumped their glasses with anyone else that stood next to them, and then took a drink. The permanent secretary had down his glass in two gulps, and finished with a "Happy Christmas, everyone." A few people wished him a Happy Christmas back, but he had already left his spot.

* * *

"Margaret, may I have this dance?"

Mei looked up from her seat. She had been sitting in the same chair since she had gotten there, at a table in the corner that had the best view of the gymnasium. A few of her friends had passed by, and they had a nice chat, but as soon as they saw that she was ill, they told her to go home and get some rest. Consequently, she told them that she hadn't missed the Christmas party since she had become a member of the WTI eleven years ago, and she wasn't feeling bad enough to start now. They would stay with her about fifteen more minutes, then would somehow leave her and disappear into the crowd.

And now, another one came. "No, thank you, Stephen. I've been feeling a little sick," coughed Mei, but would have come up with another reason not to dance anyway.

"Oh no, really? Can I get you anything?" Stephen sat next to her, visibly worried. His bright gray eyes grew big and stared at her, and Mei could feel her neck taking her own face about two inches back. He wasn't a bad looking young man, though he wasn't a real good looking one. His main features were his freckles that covered his face, arms, and legs, and the strikingly bright red hair that he had.

"No, thank you. I'm fine," said Mei.

"Well," he took out a small package wrapped in bright red paper with a gold bow. "Maybe this'll cheer you up. I bought you a present," he said, and gave it to her.

Mei blinked, but couldn't help to smile. "Really? Oh... thank you!"

"Yes, really. It's Christmas."

She sort of gasped, suddenly remembering. "Yes, of course." She blinked at the package. "I'm sorry, I didn't get you anything."

Stephen shook his head. "That's alright. Well? Aren't you going to open it?"

With a genuine smile, Mei unwrapped the present. It was a box, and inside the box was a silver necklace with a twisted silver piece that held an opal in the middle. She was speechless, but thanked him again, and gave him a hug.

But suddenly, she sat back in her chair, blinked, and stopped. She really was quite grateful, but she wasn't quite ready yet. "You know," she said, looking Stephen in the eyes, "I think I could use a cookie or something."

Stephen stood up suddenly, and grasped his stomach. "Yes," he said, "I could use a few cookies myself. Be back is a sec." He got up, rushed to the desert table, and Mei was alone once again.

"Who was that?" Her father slipped into to the chair not five seconds after Stephen left.

Mei fingered the opal, looking at it hopelessly. "Stephen Owens. I got him into the program a few months back and he's been following me like a stray cat ever since. I feel sorry for him, though. He was really confused and messed up before I met him."

Her father nodded. "Mmhm. That's how they all are. What's he do?"

"He's a chemist," said Mei. She put the necklace back in the box.

"No, what's he do?"

Mei sighed and glanced back at the desert table. Stephen was piling his plate high with all kinds of deserts. That should keep him busy for a while. "He's a phaser," she said.

"Good," responded her father.

"You would just love it if I married into a physical ability, wouldn't you?" she scowled.

Her father looked her in the eye. "I'm just saying that with all the pressure we put into people marrying into the same ability group, my own daughter should take it into consideration. You may have a psychological ability, but you still carry my gene." He took a drink from his glass. "Anyway, it doesn't have to be him. There must be a hundred gifted bachelors in this building. Take your pick."

Mei stared into her champagne. She was feeling sick again. If she got into a serious relationship and then got married, she wouldn't dare put herself in the front lines as an agent again. That is, if her father let her fight again after this compulsory time out of hers.

"But then again, that boy just adores you," her father stood up, seeing Stephen coming back with a full plate. "Even if could use your ability to attract a man, you won't get a better reaction than that."

Mei picked up the necklace again. The opal shone in a rainbow of lovely blues, yellows, and pinks, as well as the reds and greens it reflected from the walls. It really was quite beautiful, and Stephen probably did cut into his salary to get it for her. Well, overall, Stephen was extraordinarily nice to her. It wasn't even on special occasions. He was just nice to her all of the time. He really just was an all around lovely boy.

For another moment, Mei genuinely smiled again.


	8. The Final Solution

**Chapter Eight: The Final Solution**

Four men in lab coats walked through the halls of the headquarters. They had just left their personal labs, carrying with them a stack of reports and a small black box. They turned out of the white research wing, and went past the stone architecture that lined the courtyard, where at least four groups were having a picnic and another was playing tag. They then turned right, past the dining hall that was filled with echoing talk and laughter. Now, to their left was the place that they called the gymnasium, but it currently held a class of people lined up in front large blocks of iron. They took another sharp right, coming to door labeled with bold letters, "Administration Only."

The one man stepped forward to unlock the door, and the whole group moved again, climbing the flight of stairs that faced them. They came to another hall, also decorated very nicely with classic architecture, and went to the middle of the corridor where a pair of grand double oak doors stood.

The same one man knocked upon it. "It's Mr. Crane, Sir," he announced himself.

A suited man from the inside opened the one door immediately.

"Well, gentlemen," said Adam Monroe, sitting at the head of the conference table. "Don't disappoint me."

"We won't, Sir," said Mr. Crane, leading his group into the room. The suited man shut the door behind them. The one scientist carrying the black box walked to the far side of the table, past the four men and three women that made up the entire WTI executive board, although none of the ministers were present. He opened the box and handed a small vial of clear liquid to the permanent secretary.

Adam inspected the liquid carefully. "Your report?" he asked.

Mr. Crane took the pile of papers from his colleague and proceeded to read them aloud. "Virus P714," he announced.

He then continued to describe the virus, how it passed by unnoticed from the body's immune system, how it continued to do what viruses did, which was hijack each cell to multiply the virus, and then how when it reached the mesothalamus, the one part of the brain unique to gifted humans, it stopped. He then continued to describe what would happen if it did not find a mesothalamus, and although he could not physically tell them what sort of hallucinations an ordinary human being would see before their inevitable death.

"From first contact, the virus takes about seventy-eight hours to certain death," Mr. Crane finished, and looked up anxiously to the board.

"Good," said Adam. "But not brilliant."

"If I may interject, Mr. Allen," interrupted the Director General for Health, "but if I've heard correctly, the virus still infects humans with abilities, but just doesn't kill them."

Mr. Crane nodded. "That is right, Mrs. Kerns. The gifted are still infected, and may still feel the minor symptoms including nausea, chills, fevering, and tiredness until their immune system minimizes the virus, which takes from five to seven days. After that, the virus still lives in their system, as it is a virus and it cannot be totally destroyed, only controlled. Therefore, they may, although rarely feel the symptoms again, which is much like getting the occasional common cold," he explained.

Another man, the Chief Financial Officer, sighed. "Nearly two decades of developing this, and that's all you got?"

Mr. Crane scowled, insulted. "It was imperative that we make a powerful, very smart virus that was stopped by the presence of the mesothalamus, but couldn't mutate to overcome that weakness. Additionally, with all the specifications that you have given us, it's impossible to create perfection."

"I agree," said the Director General for Research. "It's terribly hard to make a virus that kills anyone at exactly three days."

"But in a project this size," said the Chief Financial Officer, "there's no room for "good enough". We need perfection."

The Head of Safety and Security cleared his throat. "He's right. There's no room for mistakes."

"It just doesn't meet our expectations," said the Networking Supervisor. "It just simply does not." Half the board nodded and agreed with supportive shouts of their own.

"You're all being ridiculous!" said the Director General for Development. "Have you all been living under a rock? This year, British gangs alone have killed twenty-six humans with abilities. Now someone come up and tell me that that wasn't our fault."

No one could. The twenty-six gifteds had not been registered with the WTI, but they all knew that they were still under their responsibility.

"We may not be in a formal war, but as long as people are confused and threatened about our presence, they'll keep attacking." The director general stood up with anger, a feeling that she rarely displayed. "Aren't we supposed to be the species to replace them? How can we do that if they keep killing us? At rates like this, we'll be extinct, the humans will die off naturally, and the Earth will be ruled by animals. We need to help along natural selection and fight back. Now."

The rest of the board simply stared at her, but none of them had anything to counter her.

"I'm sorry, Maryann. You're the only one of us that's thinking straight," said the Head of Safety and Security humbly. "Protection of our species always comes first."

The Director General for Development sat down again. "It's fine, Walter." The next moment, the whole board muttered in undeniable agreement. They needed to stop them.

Adam had been watching his board all along, but took the opportunity to finally speak. "Mr. Crane, it looks like you've finally got a green light."

The scientist sighed and smiled with pleasure.

"What's the date?" Adam asked no one in particular.

A few of the board scrambled with their watches and cell phones.

"August twenty-fourth," said one of the scientists meekly.

Adam leaned forward in his chair. "Alright, kids. We've got four months to put this plan into reality." He placed the vial upside down on the table so that it stood on its own. "Next New Year's Day, 2040..." He stared at the vial, smiling. "...will be the first day of a new era."

**A/N:** Please, excuse way lame ending of this chapter. But woot! A new review! Thank you! Thank you so very much! Look how much I'm smiling, it's scary!

And no, that doesn't mean reviewing is bad. It's very good, actually. Yes, very, very good. So please? Pretty, pretty please? D


	9. Virus P714

**Chapter Nine: Virus P714  
**

A world map under a cork board was spread across the conference table with a small box of red thumbtacks. It was colorful, being a political boundaries map. Six of the board members stood evenly around it while the seventh, Walter, stood by with a thick packet of papers.

"So," started Adam, staring at the map. "When we start the infection, we'll have about thirty hours before the weakest start showing symptoms, and then about two more hours after that before the world realizes that something's wrong. Our previous intentions were to have one infected person per twenty million. What do you think, Mr. Crane? Can we still infect all of New York's metropolitan area in thirty hours with just one person?"

Mr. Crane smiled. "Of course. Easily."

"Well, then," the permanent secretary continued. "We'll be needing one for them," he said, and stuck a thumbtack on New York City's dot on the map, "and one for every other global city, as I assume the concentration would make up for a stretched ratio. Then, we can move on to the smaller cities, and fill in the rest of our agents in the spaces in between. Sound good?"

The board nodded, and Walter opened the packet and started to read the list aloud as the group pressed in thumbtacks, "Tokyo... Seoul... Mexico City... Mumbai... Jakarta..."

* * *

"Shut you potholes or I'm going to pull-over and leave you out on the street!" screamed Mrs. Brown to her rear view mirror.

David and Louis Brown immediately stopped their yelling. They tried to look out their windows for a good view, but as they had been stuck in a traffic jam for the past half hour, there really was nothing new to see. The next minute was painful silence through which horns beeped and birds sang their morning song.

"Hey boys," Mr. Brown turned from his passenger seat, "did you like your roadtrip?"

David sighed. "It sucked."

"I-I liked the big ball," Louis threw up his hands, animating the scene, "And- and then it touched the bottom and then it went 'BOOM!'" He made explosion sound effects for emphasis.

Mrs. Brown turned her head. "Could you quiet down, Louis? Mommy has a headache." She then talked very loudly to her husband. "Seriously, Brian. I thought you said it would be better to wait until the 2nd to drive home..."

Mr. Brown grunted and sat back. "No, I said to take Route 440 to 35 to get out of New York, not to take the Jersey Turnpike in the middle of rush hour. If we only left in the middle of the day-"

"I was not going to pay for another middle in that hotel room!" Mrs. Brown put a hand to her face. She was shaking. She rolled down her window to get some air.

"Sharon, you're letting the heat out-"

"I have a goddamn headache, Brian! What do you want me to do?" Mrs. Brown didn't let him answer that, because she started coughing. She leaned back in her seat, took a deep breath, but started to cough again. "I... need..." she made out between the fits.

Mr. Brown looked at her, confused. She started to make motions with her hands, elaborate ones.

"Honey, help me out here. I don't know- oh, shit!" His wife made a final gesture of her hand pointing to her middle, then curving up to her throat and mouth. She half missed the plastic bag that Mr. Brown had grabbed, but threw up her whole breakfast in the next ten seconds. The two boys yelled out and Louis started kicking again.

Mrs. Brown grabbed for a tissue, and Mr. Brown got it for her. "What is it, Hun? The stomach flu?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I think so."

* * *

Dr. Qian walked quickly into the hospital, and was immediately given a clipboard and a surgical mask. He was only given a second to examine the damage, and it consisted people sitting against every open wall, some gathered together for comfort, and a whole army of nurses rushing past.

He asked a nurse if he knew what was going on. "They have been pouring in the hospital since midday today, and they just keep coming," he said. "I'm sorry, I have to go. Ask the supervisor!" He rushed off the other way in a flash.

Putting on his mask, Dr. Qian hurried over to the counter, where at least seven secretaries were standing around, writing furiously on papers, and, weaving in and out of the office.

"What is going on?" he asked, twice.

"We think it's some kind of virus," one woman said quickly. "It starts out like influenza, but then people get into delirium, and then they die. The problem is telling them that we're doing all that we can, but we can't do much." She then sped off as well.

He still wasn't getting all of the information he needed. The doctor stared around, seeing people laying across the floor, sweating with fevers, all coughing or talking or yelling so much that combined, the whole hospital boomed with sound. An old woman had her hands raised, and she called out to the heavens. More were acting similarly, and Dr. Qian suddenly couldn't block out the cries.

"Where is this?" he demanded at another nurse. "Is it just in Shenzhen, or-?" She pointed hastily to the television screen in the corner, but a moment later, Dr. Qian was pulled down the hall by another nurse.

The video being shown on the news were very similar to that which the hospital was currently experiencing. "We have a live video from a hospital in Shanghai. There are not enough hospital beds, and many have to lay on the floor. As you can see, people are coming from everywhere for medical attention, and it is predicted that three-fourths of the population is struggling to overcome the virus on their own." It seemed that the cameraman was then pushed out of the hospital, but it continued to take footage. At least a hundred people were shouting and pounding at the door.

"Mass chaos has broken through every part of China. The same is happening throughout the world." The video switched to footage of Paris, which hardly looked any different from the other videos. There was still pandemonium from the hospital out into the street with shouts from many people. "The reports of any country's death count are still not released, but it is clear that this is becoming the worst pandemic in human history. We will give you any updates as soon as we get them."

That being said, the screen showed the newscaster's solemn face. And then, he coughed.

* * *

There was not a cloud in the sky to stop the sun from being so hot and beam upon the boy. He walked to the center of the town, shovel in hand. His clothes were filled with dust, dirt, and sweat, but he wiped off his face with his sleeve, readjusted his hat, and kept walking. It was not long before he came to a shaded table, where an old wrinkled man sat in the shade. The boy leaned his shovel against the house and sat next to him.

The man poured him a glass of wine. "I know what you are thinking, Benito, but sometimes we just need a drink," the old man croaked quietly.

The boy said nothing, but grasped his wine glass and took a sip.

A weak breeze blew through the town. The old man and the boy stared in front of them, and didn't say a thing. The town didn't say anything back.

The boy finished his glass, put it down, and stood to pick up his shovel again.

"No, Benito," said the old man sharply. "Stay. Rest."

The boy wiped his forehead with his sleeve. "Thank you, Don Santos, but there is still much to do."

"No," Don Santos said again. "You. Sit, and cry on my shoulder."

For a moment, Benito turned to walk back to his work, but instead, he sat back down, leaned upon Don Santos, and started to cry.

"Why us?" Benito murmured through his tears. "Why just the two of us, of the entire town?"

Don Santos rubbed the boy's back. "I think it's because we're special. Because I can make myself unable to be seen, and because you can learn to do amazing things just because you read it once in a book. And, I think, God just wanted us to live."

"I wish I could do something amazing, instead," he mumbled. "I'd be like Superman and could fly them to Buenos Aires and..."

Benito continued to shed tears into Don Santos shirt, and after a while, Don Santos started sheding tears of his own.

Another breeze blew through, picked up the dust on the road, and then let it fall again.

"Don Santos, I'm sorry," Benito pushed himself to stand up, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve again. "I need to... to dig, for all of them... before..."

"Well, then this time, I will come with you. I may be a weak old man," he groaned and stood up, "but no boy should be allowed to bury his family alone."


	10. The Broadcast

**Chapter Ten: The Broadcast  
**

The door slammed and Stephen scrambled into his apartment. "Quick! Margaret, turn on the telly!" he shouted into the kitchen, and hastily hung up his hat, scarf, and jacket on the rack, which promptly fell over.

Mei ran into the living room and reached for the remote, although it was hard because the infant in her other arm had just fallen asleep for the first time since midnight. She had trying to check for any kind of news for the past few days, but all of the channels were out of service except for the local one which regularly showed just the kind of riots, fire, destruction, pain, and death that she had been trying to avoid by staying inside.

A thin-haired woman with glasses appeared on the screen, reading aloud from a podium. Not once did she look up from her papers. A Union Jack flag was displayed in the back and a few cameras flashed around her. The caption from the network labeled her as "WTI Networking Supervisor: Eileen Hill".

"...as the entirety of His Majesty's Parliament has endured an untimely death with the exception of Mr. Benjamin Campbell of Warrington South and Mr. Alfred Steiner of Kirkclady and Cowdenbeath. As such, the Department for the Welfare of Talented Individuals, the only department that has been currently stabilized, has made the effort to bring the following official report:"

This pandemic was indeed caused by a virus, first identified by a hospital in Tokyo on the first of January, at approximately 9 a.m. local time, or at 8 p.m., Coordinated Universal Time. It was concluded that the strains of the virus did not come from any specific place, but were first encountered by every country in every major metropolitan area in the evening of December 31st, 2039. We are currently investigating the possibility of a planned attack of biological warfare, but no further evidence has yet been found."

The virus has been found to indeed be a mutation of a an influenza virus, sharing its common first symptoms, such as sneezing, coughing, nausea, muscle soreness, increased sensitivity to light and sound, a fever, or the chills, which are found within the twenty-four to thirty-six hours of contracting the virus. Starting between forty-eight and sixty hours from first infection, the symptoms are typically accompanied by severe brain damage, shown by symptoms such as dementia, hallucinating, unresponsiveness, loss of bodily functions, paralyzation, and seizures. Following this, at approximately seventy hours of infection, the victim experiences sudden convulsions which is followed by death. A more in depth and medical explanation of the virus will be broadcasted at 7 a.m. Coordinated Universal Time."

The virus is extremely contagious and it may be spread even through breath or physical contact. It is estimated that of the previous world population of nine billion, thirty thousand have not been exposed and are currently living in self-contained colonies and chambers. As of yet, no records have been taken about tribes living in desolate areas that are geographically separated from regular society."

The networking supervisor took a break to pause, licked her lips, but still didn't look up at the camera. Stephen and Mei stared at their television screen, speechless. They couldn't say a word, and it wasn't like there was anything to say.

"The estimated survival rate for those who were infected," she continued, "is about one in one thousand. All of these survivors possess or have the potential to develop some kind of atypical ability, and currently, there are no reported infected survivors that do not. These humans with abilities are also commonly called talented individuals or gifteds. If you would please bear with us, further details upon this will be covered shortly."

Journalists started to reach out and yell questions with their notepads and microphones, but the networking director ignored them completely, picked up her report, and walked off.

Stephen and Mei stared at the empty podium again for a few moments. The camera made no attempt to move from the spot, and the couple waited intensely for something to happen.

A whine started to ring out from one of their rooms.

"Oh, that'll be Michael," said Mei, making sure the baby in her arms was still asleep. "Will you please get him a glass of water?" she asked Stephen.

He obeyed, although his eyes were still glued to the screen as he walked to the kitchen, filled a bright green sippy cup with a bottle of filtered water and then quickly walked off towards the whining.

"Heya Michael," Stephen sat down upon the bed and handed the 3-year-old his cup. He put a hand to the boy's cheek as he drank. "Ah, you've still running a fever. But, are you feeling better than before?" he asked.

Michael nodded, and continued to drink.

Stephen got up and walked backwards toward the door. "Good. Now, will you be a good boy and put that on the counter when you're done with it? Daddy's has to go see something right now."

Michael nodded again, still drinking.

He got back to the living room just as the WTI's permanent secretary walked up to the podium.

"Good morning," Adam started as professionally as the suit he was wearing. "I do realize that in this sort of apocalypse in time, there may be more mourning and uprising against governments than listening, but the WTI thought it was necessary to inform the world and at least attempt to bring order."

My name is Joseph Allen and I am the Permanent Secretary and Leader of the Executive Board for the Department for the Welfare of Talented Individuals, or the WTI. Twenty-one years ago, Prime Minister Davis and Queen Elizabeth started our secret department for the purpose of identifying, researching, aiding, and protecting humans with extraordinary abilities such as the power of flight, manipulation of the elements, invisibility, telepathy, and many more less basic examples. These kind of people have existed for hundreds of years, but no government accepted their existence until just recently."

Our scientists have found that the reason for these 'superpowers', if I may, is just evolution taking its course to create a better species, just as previously, chimpanzees and Neanderthals had evolved into modern humans. In short, we are a new species, scientifically named _Homo caelestis_. For some reason, through some supreme being, the virus has spared and passed over us. That is, if you are alive, watching this broadcast, and are not part of a closed community, you are part of this special group of gifted humans whether you know it or not." Adam looked daringly at the camera. "Even I am a gifted human."

For a second, he stepped back from the podium and pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket with one hand, and pulled something else from his back pocket. With a swift motion, he shifted his stance so that his hand was facing the camera and showed the glint of a small knife in the handkerchief. Before anyone in the studio could say a word, he grimaced and sliced off his little finger. Every journalist gasped and the flashes of cameras grew wild.

At first, there was a spurt of blood, but he stopped it from running down his hand with the handkerchief. Then, the blood closest to the wound seemed to be sucked in by it, and as nearly as fast as it had been removed, the bone, tissue, skin, and nail of the pinky grew back, and Adam began to move and bend it to show that it still worked.

He looked back to the camera. "I have a message for all of you watching around the world. You are all special, and you were spared by this virus for a reason. For a survival rate of one in a thousand, there are only about nine million of us still living on Earth, which, five days ago, was about the size of the entirety of Greater London. We need to help each other, support each other, rebuild, and start anew. Your own government may have different ideas, but on behalf of the WTI, I am telling every Briton to go, pack your things, and head to your closest major city, either Glasgow, Newcastle Upon Tyne, Leeds, or London. Citizens of Northern Ireland may head to the Belfast. The point of this is to count the survivors and regroup ourselves so that we can maintain our society."

Again, the policies may be different with your specific country. As most developed nations have adopted their own WTI or equivalent departments in the past decade or so, I would expect that they would have their own instructions. In any case, the heads of each department will be meeting later today to discuss such matters. Now, if there are any questions-"

As if on a timer, the baby in Mei's arms started the wriggle around and show signs of discomfort. "No, Charlie. Not now..." she tried to simultaneously soothe the baby and watch the television. "Did you hear Grandpapa? Everything's going to be alright."

**End of Part One**

* * *

**A/N:** "Eat your brain? Claire, that's disgusting."

Best. Line. Ever.

So that's the end of Part One. You like, eh? Yes, I know. Probably not. Listen, Part Two's going to be a while because of some personal situations that get down to the fact that they are not on this computer and I can't get to them until... I have no idea when. But, at least you have the actual series to watch now, right? By the way, the new season is too awesome and I love it too much. Way too much.

If you could ever believe me, I would tell you that Part Two is better and you should check back every once in a while for it. You do want to know what happens after an apocalypse, don't you?

Don't you?

Edit-ness: **Part Two** can be found here:** /s/4609031/1/**


End file.
